


health and safety

by lauraxtennant



Series: Ten/Rose Collection 2016 [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraxtennant/pseuds/lauraxtennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor has to break it to Rose that her cooking leaves a lot to be desired. They find a way to make use of the kitchen, though. Or rather, the kitchen table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	health and safety

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an anonymous prompt on tumblr. Thanks!

“You do know that it isn’t meant to turn that colour when you fry it, right?” the Doctor asks, casually leaning against the counter, next to where Rose is attempting to cook an Asgillian dish.

Rose turns towards him and _glares._

“What? Just trying to be helpful.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m cooking something from another planet. I think you can forgive me if I make a few mistakes.”

The Doctor tilts his head, eyeing the frying pan warily. “Thing is, you’ll give us all food poisoning if you serve that up.”

Rose bites her lip, regards the food, then turns off the hob, backing away. “Right, look, I tried - you can’t say I didn’t try - and I failed, so now you give it a go.”

“No, no, no, that wasn’t the deal,” he points out, backing even further away from the oven than Rose. “I said, we’ll have Martha and Mickey over for dinner, just like you wanted, but only if you did the cooking.”

Her hands go to her hips. “Which is completely unfair.”

“How is it? This whole thing was purely so that you could impress Martha with a dish from that recipe book she got you for your birthday!”

“Yes! But you were meant to cook it for me!”

“Rose Tyler. Are you suggesting that we would _lie?_ To _Martha?”_

“It wouldn’t be lying, it would just be…it would be…” she trails off, at a loss. “Look, I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but that present is hardly me, is it?”

“To be fair, she hasn’t known you very long. You’ve been in a parallel universe for three years; how’s Martha supposed to know what an abysmal cook you are?”

Rose’s hands leave her hips, but only so that she can fold her arms. “Excuse me?”

The Doctor scratches at the back of his neck. “Hmm? Did I say - did I say abysmal? I didn’t mean that, I meant - I meant - unpracticed. Yes. That’s right. Sorry, your English language can get confusing sometimes - ”

“You speak like a thousand languages fluently, Doctor, including English, so don’t give me that.”

“Why don’t we just fly us all somewhere for a bite to eat, hmm?” he says quickly, trying to divert the conversation into safer territory. 

Rose deflates. “You sure you can’t salvage anything from this?” She gestures to the food.

Wincing, the Doctor shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“Okay. Fine.” She plonks herself down at the galley table. “Where do you suggest?”

“We could go to that diner you liked on Dex Seven?”

Her brow furrows as she casts her mind back a few years. “Remind me?”

“It was snowing, and we had to get inside somewhere quick because the TARDIS was the other side of the mountain, and you said your feet were turning into icicles.” He pulls up a chair beside her, and casually drapes his arm around the back of hers. To his delight, Rose tilts her head, resting it against his bicep. “You spotted these flashing lights in the distance, and as we got closer we realised it was a cosy little restaurant. Most importantly, they sold chips.”

Rose wrinkles her nose. “You say that, but they didn’t look like chips.”

“They were tasty, weren’t they?” he retorts. “Don’t judge a chip by its colour, Rose.”

“Says you, who insulted my cooking earlier.”

“That’s different, that’s a health and safety violation.” She pokes him hard in the ribs. “Oof. It’s all right, you can’t be good at everything.”

“Hey!” she laughs, lifting her head to glare at him playfully.

He leans in without thinking and kisses her. The action is still new enough, to them - him initiating affection in this manner - that she stiffens in surprise for a brief moment. She melts into it, though, deepening the kiss, and one of her hand comes up to sift through his hair. A pleased sound rises up his throat and he wraps both his arms around her, drawing her against him as best he can in their position.

When she breaks the kiss to catch her breath, he murmurs, “What time did you tell Martha and Mickey we’d pick them up?”

Rose licks her lips as she thinks. “About seven, I think. On the 20th.”

“And we’ll find that diner?”

“Mmhmm,” she nods, smiling.

“So we don’t have to worry about cooking,” he muses, and drops a kiss to her cheek, then her jaw. “And we have a time machine that can get us to theirs at seven, on the 20th, in no time at all, whenever we like.” His mouth descends to her neck, where he sucks, lightly. She lets out a small moan and tightens her grip on his hair, keeping him there. “What I’m saying is,” he continues quietly, as he moves on to nibble at her collar bone. “I’ve got plenty of time to do something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“And what’s that?” Rose whispers, sighing in pleasure as he trails his hands across her chest. 

The Doctor lifts his head to meet her gaze, hands busy with unbuttoning her top. “Well, you see, every morning for two and a half years, my lovely companion would sluggishly move about this kitchen in her - really, very tiny - pyjamas, hair a complete mess, as she went about making some tea and toast. And it occurred to me that I had an excellent idea of how to properly wake her up. Of course, given that she’s renowned for not being a morning person, I never attempted such a thing.”

“I probably would’ve told you to piss off, yeah,” Rose agrees, grinning.

He smirks. “Who says I was talking about you?”

Rose grabs his hands, stilling them, and murmurs in a low, rather sexy voice, “You’d better be.”

Chuckling, the Doctor stands, pulling her up with him. “You’d be standing here, waiting for the kettle to boil,” he says, maneuvering her so that she’s facing away from the table. “And I’d invariably want to do this.” His arms go around her waist from behind, and he drops a few soft kisses to her shoulder and neck. Rose shivers, and presses back against him. “Ideally, you’d do what you just did,” he says, pleased that she’s so good at making all his dreams come true, “And then I’d spin you around and kiss you.” He does just that, and Rose giggles against his mouth. He tilts his head back and tuts at her. “You wouldn’t laugh, Rose, you’d be too flustered for that.”

“Right, sorry,” she giggles again, then presses her lips together and tries to look serious. There’s a blush on her cheeks that does fit rather nicely with the flustered image in his mind, so he lets her off. “Carry on,” she prompts.

“I’d walk us backwards and then turn, so that it’s you against the table.”

“Mm, I like where this is going,” she says, and preempts his instruction by hopping up onto the table, shuffling on her bum a little to get comfy. “Though I’m pretty sure this is a bigger health and safety violation than my misadventure with the Asgillian recipe.”

“Pretty sure you won’t care in a minute,” the Doctor smirks, and drops to his knees, hands on her hips to pull her closer to the edge. She gasps, and it thrills him that maybe he’s surprised her for once, and he feels the tremble in her legs as he unzips her jeans.

Her hands go behind her to support herself, and she lifts up enough so that he can tug her jeans off. She’s biting her lip, now, half-hiding a shy smile, and he pauses for a moment to take her in. Her checked shirt hangs open, framing her lacy bra as her breasts rise and fall with every shaky, anticipatory breath.

His gaze drops further, to where she’s pressing her thighs together, and when he moves his hands to her knees to gently encourage them apart, he can see just how aroused she is. 

“I knew the kitchen was useful for something,” she comments lightly, tilting her hips as his fingers trace over the damp cotton of her knickers.

“Mmm,” he agrees, “Could be that we’ll actually achieve something in here for the very first time, after all those cooking disasters.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it, hesitant.

“Go on,” he murmurs, and they work together to get the knickers down her legs and out of the way. “Say what you want to say.”

Rose beams at him, bravely and brilliantly, even as she goes bright pink at her own words, “Best meal you’ll ever have?”

That makes him cackle with laughter, and her own giggles turn filthy in return. “I expect so, yes.” He settles her thighs over his shoulders and leans in for an initial sample. She jerks at the first contact of his tongue to her folds, and when he murmurs his appreciation, she groans, one hand returning to his hair. 

“I don’t think I’d’ve been able to breathe, if you’d done this one of those mornings you talked about, from before,” she whispers. His tongue dips inside her and she swears, loudly. 

When he replaces his tongue with his fingers, to get deeper and to suck at her clit, Rose throws her head back and arches into his mouth.

“I’m never gonna be able to be in this room again without thinking of you doing this,” she says, and he lifts his head for a second.

“Much better than cooking some fancy dish, hmm?”

“God, yeah,” Rose groans, then presses down on the back of his head in a subtle hint. 

“I’ll get back to that, then,” he chuckles. 

“Please do.”


End file.
